


La vie Bohème (ENG)

by daxffodils



Series: La Belle Saison [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, F/F, F/M, Gay, High School, Inspired by Real Events, Real Life, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 18:16:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18922456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daxffodils/pseuds/daxffodils
Summary: Jordan and Mae are two young women living in a picturesque village in the heart of the Greek Islands. They attend the local high school, apparently a serene academic institution where they can forge their education and person, but which represents the fulcrum of their small and at the same time immense world. In fact, surrounded by friendships, adventures, first loves and unusual experiences, they will embark on a journey to the discovery of sentiments, of the emotions that are typically symptomatic of adolescence and growth, of the world; but, more importantly, they will find themselves.





	La vie Bohème (ENG)

 

                                                              

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

**La Belle Saison:**

**La Vie Bohème**

 

 

Kalokairi Island, a barely touristic destination but heartfeltly cherished by its locals, was shining in all of its Greek splendor under the suggestive light of a beginning of summer’s sunset. The less-renowned beach of the whole shore, the one that only the true locals frequented, was filled with youngsters celebrating the close wrapping of the academic year. Students were sitting and dancing on the water’s edge with beers in one hand, hope minded and full of dreamy looks on their faces. Another academic year was coming to an end for the local high school, and its students’ spirits were trepidatious with the arrival of the hot season, under the crimson sunset of that early June evening. Mae Bekaelis was enjoying the thought of the upcoming holidays as well, at the end of her third year of high school. As a matter of fact, with the fourth drink of the evening in her hand, those days which separated her from the long-awaited freedom felt even more insignificant. What a shame there was a much more annoying thought torturing her, in that moment.

<I’m not lying, why should I be? I’m sure of what I saw!>

<I have no idea what you’re talking about.> Replied feverishly her classmate and best friend, Jordan, who had just materialised in front of the counter where Mae was leaning. Jordan Priestley was one of a kind. Impudent, exuberant, shameless, charismatic, exaggerated, the definition of hyperactivity. She feared no one, but everyone feared her and, at the same time, remained dazzled by her personality. Objectively, she didn’t have any obviously or canonically good-looking trait, but she was extremely fascinating in her peculiar fusion of mysteriousness and “girl of the next door”, which naturally belonged to her personality. Mae herself had always admired her profoundly, and she had lowkey always hoped she would become more similar to her, at least a little bit, with her influence literally 24/7. In fact, since they met Mae and Jordan had become such close friends they would just be inseparable. Both had found in the other something that was extremely important, key, a missing piece of their own selves that, they were certain, they would have found in the other reciprocally since the first moment they met. Even if they still didn’t know what that was. 

<I swear I spotted Deana kissing Destiny, not long ago. I’m positive about it. We cannot stay here with our arms crossed, it’s not fair!> Mae continued saying stubbornly, trying to convince her friend.

<I think you had too many of these>, Jordan observed, pulling the margarita away from her hands. Mae got it back vehemently, and she guzzled it in one sip, without leaving a single drop of it. Jordan was staring at her in shock.

<I have to call Fleur.> Mae stated, removing any liquid on the corner of her mouth with one smooth move of her hand. <I need to tell her what her girlfriend does when she’s not around.>

<Mae, stop joking around. You don’t want to do something you will regret when you’ll feel like yourself again. Even if you’re right, this is a matter between Fleur and Deana. They have to solve it by themselves.> While pronouncing the wise advice, Jordan was looking at Mae with seriousness, hoping she’d understand she couldn’t just make herself the heroine of a situation like that. But unfortunately enough, Mae didn’t look like she was paying much attention, so the unexpected but effective intervention of Alfred and Donna was necessary.

<As much as I’d love to see a good fight between two hot chicks, pulling their hair and tearing their clothes apart…> Alfred sighed bitterly, pretending to be pondering the idea of having to give up something vital. <... I have to agree with Jordan, alas>. Donna smacked him on his right arm, though with clear affection. <We didn’t mean to eavesdrop… but we couldn’t help but overhear the last few lines of the discussion. We’re worried about you, Mae. You don’t even know this Fleur that well!>. Donna and Alfred were Mae’s friends since childhood. They didn’t see each other very often, but the huge love and affection between them had always been there, despite the difficulties, the divergences and the terrible passing of time. When they got together, with their opposite - and often contrasting - temperaments, no one would have believed they would last more than a few months at most. Mae and Jordan themselves had bet for a maximum duration of two months. Instead, they had never let go of the other, and would have celebrated three years together in a few weeks.

<Fleur is my friend!> Mae defended herself, hurt in her pride.

<So is Deana for me.> Replied Jordan dryly.

<Then you should tell her something.>

<You know I can’t. I told you. None of us can, don’t you see it?>

Mae nodded faintly, not truly convinced. As if she was thinking about something else entirely. Jordan was about to ask her for a confirm, knowing she would sound obnoxious, when she was interrupted by a dark-skinned guy who was running towards them. <Jordan! Did you see Agnes by any chance? Please, she’s nowhere to be found!>.

<Peter, easy! Take a deep breath.> She said, laying her hands on the guy’s shoulders while she was miming calm breaths with a rhythm for him to emulate. <Right, well done. What’s going on?>

<We came to the party together> Peter took a break between the sentences, still panting. <Then I saw her chatting to Daphne and, completely out of the blue, she was gone. I hadn’t even noticed. It must be an hour that I don’t see her around anymore. I wouldn’t worry normally, but you know, it’s Agnes…>

<I know, with all of the problems she’s been having lately it’s dangerous to leave her alone this long. All right, let’s go, I’ll help you find her.> Jordan patted Peter on the shoulder, and he felt as grateful as he possibly could, almost as much as he felt worried. Jordan turned around, addressing her words to Alfred and Donna. <Guys, will you please mind Mae for ten minutes? Honestly, I’m not sure what she could do>

<Don’t worry, she’s in good hands. Go ahead.> Donna replied, with a reassuring look on her face. <Keep us posted about Agnes.> Jordan smiled back. <Of course>.

 

After what felt like hours of looking around, Peter and Jordan were blessed enough to step into a classmate, Abigail, who had apparently seen Agnes. Apparently, their friend hadn’t left the ladies’ restroom for the last half hour, at least. Peter couldn’t help but sob loudly and worryingly, while Jordan was trying to reassure him. <Don’t worry, I’ll go check on her. You stay here. Thank you Abi>. With insistence but delicacy, Jordan pounded on the single toilet door which appeared engaged. 

<Agnes? It’s me, open up>

<Go away> She heard sobbing in reply.

<Come on, let me in. I’m not going to ask you anything, okay?>

<I don’t want you to see me like this>

Jordan rolled her eyes, as she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. <I saw you wearing an Easter bunny costume with fluffy ears and you won’t let me see a few tears? You know I won’t judge you, no matter what.>

There was no response. Then Jordan heard, after less than a minute, the feeble sound of Agnes standing up, and right after it she heard, much louder, the lock of the door springing to open it up. The moment Jordan could spot her, Agnes hugged her tightly as if she really needed it, with her face red and full of tears and her hair dishevelled. <What’s going on, Ag?>

<I’ll tell you about it, but first  _ please _ let’s get out of this dump>.

Once Peter joined them again, he and Jordan finally had their explanation about what was upsetting their friend that much. <Rhonda knows everything. About me. The problems I have… had with my arms, and legs. She knows about my binge-eating, and how many times I threw up. She even knows how many times a day I go to the bathroom>. Peter widened his eyes, clearly weirded out. <But… how? How does she know? Did you tell her?>. He looked genuinely upset by Agnes’ words, while Jordan was staring at her intensely, with her eyes semi-closed, slowly pondering the information. Agnes was a peculiar young woman, two years younger than Jordan. She had the typical aspect of a reckless teenager, with her curly red hair, the worn-out clothes and the broken fishnets, which left very little to the imagination. She was short and a little overweight, and had dark eyes: the complete opposite of Jordan, who was tall and sleek, had her hair cut in a raven black semi-bob, green eyes, and whose clothing choices were always close to a classic, chic, evergreen style: black and white were always the right choices for her. <Of course I didn’t tell her myself> Agnes had a disappointed look on her face addressed to Peter. <That moron, Dirk, he blathered everything.>

Peter seemed confused. <What? Dirk?> Agnes nodded, pursing her lips.

<Dirk, as in the school’s psychologist Dirk?> Peter continued, in shock. 

<It’s illegal.> Jordan stated at that point, re-joining the conversation. <He cannot do this. It goes against the professional secrecy and every single ethics clause, and don’t even get me started on how inappropriate it is for him to go tell your Spanish teacher your personal issues, that you told him in the confidence of a private meeting.> While Jordan was keeping her aplomb, Peter felt like he was the only one that was about to freak out. 

<I mean, you guys, are you even serious? This is a clear violation! He cannot get away with this!> He screamed.

<I can’t believe Rhonda would do something like this… she asked Dirk to peep into my business. I thought she trusted me.> Agnes continued sorrowfully.

<What a cunt> Peter commented bitterly. Jordan was following another kind of reasoning instead. <Forget about Rhonda, now. You have to focus on Dirk. Clearly you cannot keep going to therapy with him if all he does is telling your stuff around.>

<What shall I do?> Agnes asked, with a tone in her voice which betrayed all of her confusion on the matter.

<Jordan! I am so so sorry to interrupt you guys, but you see… it’s an emergency.> Alfred had appeared behind Jordan’s back out of the blue, and all of a sudden that night was becoming intolerable and, above all, freaking everlasting. <Donna and I were collecting the pizzas we had ordered from the counter and we literally left for one minute, I swear!> Alfred was gesturing theatrically with his hands in order to explain his point, but Jordan put her hands up as well and she waved them in front of her face with a contrite expression, as she was telling him to stop. <Where’s Mae?> She simply asked, without any hesitation.

<With… Deana…> Was the answer she got. Jordan widened her eyes, then she shut them and she took a deep breath. <Okay.>.

 

Many screams and two guys, in addition to Jordan, Agnes, Donna and Destiny had been necessary in order to get Mae and Deana to stop fighting in what was starting to look like a dangerous, but mostly pointless duel. Jordan was pressing an ice pack against Mae’s jaw, seated on a folded sunbed. <Ouch! You’re hurting me!> Mae protested. Jordan flashed her eyes at her in reply. <Thank me for medicating you, it does me credit. Look at that, you got all of your clothes dirty…>

<Of course, that harpy pushed me to the floor!>

<Mae.> Jordan look right through her best friend’s eyes. <You had it coming. And you know it.>

Mae lowered her eyes on the floor, not saying a word. <I don’t understand why you care so much, anyway. Do you by any chance like this Fleur?>

<Jo, what are you talking about! Fleur… she… well, she’s a girl.> Jordan raised an eyebrow, skeptical. <So?>

<So I cannot like her. Period.> Her friend shrugged, in visible disagreement. <Okay>, she said. 

<But do you think I should call her?> Mae continued. Jordan pretended not to hear the clear enthusiasm she had in her voice while still only pondering the idea. She laid the half-melted ice pack on the sunbed. Then she pulled out a cigarette and, placing it between her lips, she tried to light it while covering one side with her hand. <No. Let time do its magic.>

  
  


The following day, at the first morning light, Mae Bekaelis and Jordan Priestley represented an amusing yet grotesque picture, while crossing the doors of Aristotle High. They were the clear result of the gone night. Jordan had darkish purple circles under her eyes, accompanied by a facial expression which seemed to indicate extraterrestrial origins. Mae, needless to say, had the evidence of her wild night drawn on her face, with a bruise expanding from the lower cheek up to her chin. Jordan hadn’t uttered a word since the moment they stepped foot in the school, swallowed by her thoughts. Every single cell in her body, every little inch of flesh that constituted it, any possible thought that crossed the conscious hemisphere of her brain was praying so that she would just go unnoticed; she prayed that, while walking beside the secretaries’ station, Lou wouldn’t stop her to say hello like she did every morning, that Paul the technician wouldn’t start chatting with her to wish her a good day, she hoped with all the strength she had that everyone would be perfectly on time that day, and that they would already be in their classrooms, that Irina and Katia behind the counter of the High School Caf é wouldn’t offer her a coffee. All she wanted was to go unnoticed. And, on top of that, she prayed for the most important thing of all: that  _ she  _ wouldn’t even notice her presence. At least not that day. Instead, with shuddering horror going down her back, she realised that the entity she spotted at the end of the hallway, once focused, terribly looked like her English teacher. The same who, the moment she saw them coming, acquired Jordan’s identical expression of horror. <What the hell happened to you two?!>

<Erm… that’s okay,  _ prof _ , we had a rough night, we didn’t sleep much.> Mae replied impulsively. The professor arched her eyebrow, not convinced. <What about that enormous bruise you have on your face?>

<My fault.> Jordan interfered, recovering some lucidity. <I pushed her yesterday, but she fell on the floor and she got hurt. I shouldn’t have done it.> Mae supported her friend’s version enthusiastically, in a fake energy outburst, while she was nodding resolutely. <You know me and Jordan, we’re like sisters!>. The two girls were saved by the arrival of their teacher’s colleague and best friend, their other English mother tongue professor, Mary. Lucky for them, Mae and Jordan had the next class with both of them, so the woman was looking for their interrogator specifically. The rest of the day went by faster than Jordan would have expected. She ran away from any possibility of bumping into her teacher in the hallways again, maintaining a low profile even when, during the break, Agnes came looking for her to ask her if she could help her exposing Rhonda while she tarnished herself with the facts that only the night before came to light. If she was guilty, in fact, they would have definitely found her talking to the psychologist, Dirk. However, as anticipated, Jordan had no intention of facing a second inquisition, so she opted to be kept indirectly updated, for once. During that time, no matter how intensely she tried to, she couldn’t possibly keep out of her mind the thought of that tiny, graceful woman, fascinating but available, sweet but authoritarian; she had the capacity of standing in the middle of a room and capturing everybody’s attention, having everyone’s eyes on her without uttering one single word. Jordan continued doing nothing but trying to give an orientation to all the reflections and thoughts whirling in her head, creating and disrupting themselves in imperceptible moments that were only beaten by the inevitable insanity to which all of this was leading. But she just couldn’t make sense of it. She was extremely confused. Why did her teacher care so much about the bags under her eyes? Or about the fact that she didn’t sleep much? And why was it for her so important to go unnoticed anytime she decided to go for something which wasn’t necessarily agreeable? Why, all of a sudden, in a timeframe that felt like a couple of minutes (but was actually months), everything started being so important, ambiguous, full of meaning, necessary to her own survival?

 

When she started feeling that the threat of running into her teacher once again that day was improbable, gladly for her, classes were about to end. Jordan, whose nature was overly restless and outgoing, had suffered unspeakably from those five hours stuck on her chair, so the exact moment the bell rang to give her the freedom she was yearning for, she had already collected all of her belongings, to spring as fast as possible and leave that damned place. However, for the second time that day her plans didn’t work. 

When she was a few steps away from the exit door, Jordan had blended in with the crowd of students leaving the school. She was relishing beforehand the sensation she would have felt in a few minutes, shrugging away every single concern and shiver which wrapped her entire body up, in order for her to finally breathe a sigh of relief, knowing she would only face round two after a 24-hour break. Instead, things didn't go as planned for the second time that day. Obviously. She perceived a grip wrapping her arm from behind, from someone who had melted into the crowd and who, therefore, she wasn’t able to identify at first: when she turned towards the entity, Fleur’s face materialised in front of her eyes. <Jordan! Geez, we never run into each other!> She let out a sigh of relief, as if she stood there without breathing up to that very moment without even realising it. It was just Fleur. <We definitely have to catch up! Let’s get a coffee sometime!> The other kept saying. Jordan smiled feebly, right before focusing on the person who was approaching them behind Fleur. The English teacher. Jordan placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. <Whenever you want, just text me! Forgive me but I really have to go now, I’m really la-...>. The woman Jordan was so afraid of had now reached the place they were standing on. And, while overcoming them, Jordan stopped talking to observe her, hanging her unfinished sentence midair. Right when it seemed like the teacher had bypassed them she stopped, right behind her, audibly clearing her throat. <Jordan, can I talk to you for one minute?> She asked. The girl’s blood ran cold.  _ I knew it _ , she thought. Fortunately, she was facing the other side. <No problem,  _ prof _ .> She said, excusing herself to Fleur and turning towards what was starting to look like a daytime nightmare. 

They were setting off together, Jordan didn’t know where to, but the path they were following looked like the one which led to the nearby school’s parking. Actually, since the moment Ms. Panagakos had asked her to follow her she hadn’t uttered half a word, but she had kept walking in silence instead, so Jordan had assumed she had to follow her. Those silent minutes, even if just a few, seemed to have indescribably dilated in Jordan’s mind, leaving her helpless to the developing of a mental disorder whose symptoms were similar to a drunken state: tremors, sweat, scarce lucidity, racing pulse, loss of any coherent thought and of communicative capacities. She rubbed her dripping hands on the black jeans, before finally bringing herself to speak. <What’s going on,  _ prof _ ? If it’s about Thano’s last oral test, I swear she is studying, she’s definitely going to be ready for the last part of the module next we-> Her teacher interrupted her with a gesture of her hand, while shaking her head. They had stopped right in the middle of the parking lot. <No Jordan, I wanted to talk to you to make sure you’re alright. What on earth did you do yesterday?>. The young girl just stayed still, staring at her with bewilderment. <I already told you. Mae fell>

<Jordan.> The woman literally glared through her with her gaze. <What happened?>

<Nothing, really>

<Why do you keep lying to me?>

<I’m just tired, nothing happened! Why do you find so important trying to necessarily catch a hidden truth behind this, Rachel!?>

<Because I’m worried about you!> Jordan looked so shocked and confused that it made her teacher realise and perceive in her own words the inappropriateness of her utterance. And, to worsen it, the two of them had drawn dangerously close during their argument, while screaming their concerns with one centimeter of distance between their bodies. Jordan was holding her gaze, even though she felt like fainting. Rachel on her part corrected herself immediately, lowering her gaze on the ground. <I mean, I’m worried about all of you who are my students…>

<Well, stop worrying then. Everything is fine.> Jordan replied dryly, pulling herself together. Why did Rachel talk to her as if she was a baby? As if she did nothing else but making trouble, so she had to save her from her own misdeeds, when she didn’t even know the reality of things? She could have enjoyed the party the night before, instead she had spent her time babysitting her friends, who couldn’t have some demeanour. It’s not like she hatched irritation or resentment, Jordan loved her friends, but having to then look like the trouble-maker, that she couldn’t stand. And, more importantly, the same question kept thundering in her psyche,  _ why was her teacher so interested in what she did? _ **.  ** Rachel watched her dwelling, then she asked her where was she headed, and if maybe she wanted a lift somewhere. Jordan could notice her breathing rate increasing and was positive her heart skipped a beat. How many times had she dreamed of the situation standing in front of her eyes in that moment? How often did her mind wander, fantasizing that scenario? 

However, after what felt like an eternal silence, the girl declined the offer softly. The disappointed look Rachel assumed reflected in her eyes in a glimpse, just for the fraction of a millisecond, Jordan thought she dreamed it. But she had to refuse, God only knew what would have happened otherwise, if she had said yes. She would have said yes to anything. Anything. And Rachel, the adult one, should have known better. She nodded feebly, looking to a different direction. <It’s fine>, she said. <I’ll see you tomorrow at school then. Get some rest, Jordan.> She smiled sweetly and waved with her hand. Then she watched while her professor started the car and stared at the grey Ford with her gaze still, until it became a dot in the distance, vanishing behind a yellow building. When she turned around, with the impression that it had been hours, she realised she was standing alone in the middle of an empty parking lot. She sighed. The intense warmth of June’s midday was exasperating her. She heard a voice calling her from behind, and she recognised Mae’s concerned tone. <Jo, what are you doing here? What happened? Come on, let’s go…>. While stepping on Mae’s scooter, Jordan started listing enthusiastically every detail of her encounter in a passionate story-telling, and a wave of joyfulness found her feeble little body imprepared, when the thought that she would see Rachel again the next day crossed her. 

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you for reaching the end of this everlasting chapter. I’ll introduce myself: I’m a young woman in her twenties trying to cope with university studies and with the first experiences of autonomous life. Though I cannot really talk about spare time, I do think my life has always had very “scenographic” occurrences, up to now; and one of the desires I’ve always carried in my heart was being able to manage to narrate these events with a written testimony. Therefore, I can positively affirm the facts and events described in this mini-novel are freely adapted from real experiences. I truly hope I intrigued you a bit, and that you will want to know more about this little story which has nevertheless represented the main source of my joy, and has determined my life and my person for years.  
> In the hope to be in touch again very soon,  
> thank you again.  
> daxffodils.


End file.
